


Saga of the Seas

by sub_servient



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Boot Worship, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sub_servient/pseuds/sub_servient
Summary: I have this fleshed out universe and relationship in my head, so I decided to put it here.I have no idea how long this thing will be, or when I'll update it - but if you enjoy please leave a comment and if there's any errors let me know :')
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Saga of the Seas

**Chapter 1: Market Day**

The house was cold as I peeled myself out of bed that morning, even though I’d slept in all my clothes and swaddled myself in blankets. I pulled on my shoes, lacing them tight before sleepily heading towards the kitchen. The fire hadn’t been lit so I had gathered together firewood and rectified that situation. No one was in, my father and siblings probably out in the fields and my mother...well I didn’t particularly care where she was. It was more than likely her fault the fire had been allowed to die.

There being no reason to remain indoors, I donned my jacket and headed out into the cold, the material not doing too much to block the wind. I spent most of my days wandering the streets of my small village, not having any inclination to work on a richer man's farm, I made my way through pickpocketing. 

Kalet held no more than 200 permanent residents, all of which knew me, which made the task of getting close enough to people to steal all the more harder. If everyone knew you were a thief, they tended to stay away. However not on a Wednesday. Wednesday was market day. Although one of the smallest villages, Kalet advertised one of the best attended markets in the entire of Courlou. For me? Market day meant densely packed crowds of unsuspecting marks. 

The town square was just that, a large square area framed by the few shops we had and the always populated tavern. I clung around the outside of the stalls, sitting and watching for an opportune moment to slip in and cut some purses. It was always funny watching the younger members of the village learning my trade, they always made the mistake of being right in the centre of things from the get go. You always needed to stay on the outskirts, the ends of rows where people were crossing over and pushing past one another. If you found a space in the crowd, you could get into the centre, but it often wasn’t worth the risk of being spotted. 

I’d been there an hour, 2 purses weighing down my coat pocket as I ate a small loaf of bread from under my hood. There wasn’t any rush today, so I was taking my time and not being too reckless with my operations. I was feeding the pigeons my crumbs when I spotted two men, one in an expensive looking coat, across the square. 

No one in these parts wore anything like what those two men were wearing. I was curious so I approached slowly, positioning myself against a wall to the side of the apothecary stall they were stood at. 

“That’s way too much.” The bald man growled at the shopkeep.

“If my price isn’t right for you, go somewhere else.”

“You know very well we can’t, you’re the only person who stocks this for miles around.” 

The man and the merchant continued to argue over some herb whilst his partner, the one in the expensive coat, was looking morosely around the rest of the stalls. I couldn’t get a proper look at him, as he had a brown leather tricorn pulled down over his eyes and with the high, stiff collar of the jacket, most of his face was obscured. The coat was one of the nicest garments I’d ever seen. Rich blue, what looked like densely packed wool, adorned with small gold detailing and the most delicate pieces of lace. He was wearing dark leather gloves which were currently fingering the chain cufflinks holding the large sleeves together. As he was adjusting them, I saw the white flash of what I knew to be a pirate brand seared into his arm. 

My slight interest turned into burning intrigue. A pirate? This far from any body of water? The closest dock was at least a 7 day walk. It was almost embarrassing to admit that I’d wanted to be a pirate since I was a young kid. My father told me stories of all of these daring men, battling their way across the seas, killing all of those who opposed them. I ran around, climbing the side of the house whilst pretending I was climbing the rigging of a huge ship. My mother shut this down after a few years, telling me “Little girls could not be pirates”. 

I should probably explain, technically, I did grow up as a little girl. But I am in no means one. I disregarded the idea of any identity when learning the ways of thievery. It started with me disguising myself to hide in plain sight, which quickly evolved into me enjoying the sense of personal anonymity. I changed my name much to my mother’s chagrin. She uses the name I chose but mostly ignores my lack of interest in wearing dresses. So no, little girls didn’t often grow up to be pirates. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore.

I didn’t realise I’d lost focus on my surroundings and when I looked up the two men had moved from their previous location. Cursing myself under my breath, I whipped my head back and forth, but didn’t see either of the men. 

I caught eyes with one of the kids, Rod, beckoning him towards me with a finger. 

“You see where the man in the blue coat went?” I asked, spinning a silver coin round my first two fingers.

Rod shrugged, “Aye, maybe.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled out two more silver, “What about now.”

He snatched the coins off me, “‘E headed to the tavern.” 

I thanked him, pointing out an easy mark to our right, before walking in the opposite direction towards the tavern. The bar was packed with shopkeepers drinking away their new found coin, already intoxicated this early in the morning. Not that I blamed them, there was little else to do in this village. Not passing up any opportunity, I slid a few copper off the tables of distracted drinkers whilst keeping an eye for the men. 

I used the coins to buy myself a measure of ale that I wouldn’t drink, but I needed to appear less suspicious. Taking the tankard, I nursed it in my hands, walking round trying to find somewhere to sit. I spotted the distinct shape of a hat peeking over one of the window booths, so I headed in that direction and took the closest, but least conspicuous seat near to the pirates. 

They were muttering softly under their breath to each other, sipping on something that looked much more expensive than the ale everyone else was drinking. The man in the coat had his back to me, so I still couldn't see his face however I had a clear view of his companion. He was completely bald, his face well structured with bones jutting against his cheeks. However he wasn’t thin by any means, his shoulders were broad, the leather waistcoat he wore tight against his chest. His eyes were thin and I had to avoid his glare as he almost paranoidly looked round his surroundings every few seconds. I was surprised the apothecary had the gall to speak up against him, he was terrifying. 

The bald man stood up suddenly and I looked down sharply, faking taking a sip of my drink. After a few seconds I risked looking up and saw him heading outside, probably to use the “bathroom”, which was just a wall a short distance from the tavern. 

Now less anxious about being spotted, I unashamedly stared at the back of the coated man’s head. He’d removed his hat, his black hair sticking up at odd angles. Well I thought it was black however when the light from the window hit it, I’m convinced I saw streaks of red running through the locks. He turned to look out the window and I saw a curled moustache peek from above the collar of his coat and small scars running in sharp patterns across his cheek. 

I must have been staring a little too hard, because before I knew it he had turned and locked eyes with me. Normally I’d have looked away or run from the building however something was keeping me locked to the stool. His eyes bored into me and I felt time fall to a stand still, sound warping and merging into silence around me. I swallowed and licked my lips anxiously, not knowing what to do. He smiled, although it was hard to determine from under the moustache, and crooked a single finger at me, gesturing for me to join him at the table. 

Feeling myself rise off the stool, I was ready to bolt out the door however to my surprise I was suddenly rushing to his table, ale from my cup spilling in the hurry. I slid onto the seat, shakily putting my cup down and looking with fake interest at the grain of the wooden table. We sat there in silence before he turned back from looking out the window to face me. 

“Look at me.” His voice was softer than I expected, but held authority all the same.

Sitting up straight, I peeked out from under my hood to find him staring straight at me again. Now being able to see him up close, I hit myself for not recognising him immediately. My eyes widened and I swallowed deeply, words getting lost on my tongue. He cocked an eyebrow but stayed silent as well, grasping my hood with his thumb and forefinger and letting it fall behind my head. 

“What’s your name?” He asked me, taking a swig of the red liquid in his glass before passing it to me. “I think you’ll prefer that to the swill you’re pretending to drink.”

I sipped the offered glass hesitantly, the taste still wasn’t great but it was much better than the ale. “Blue.” I replied, still in vague shock.

“I’m Kl-.”

“I know who you are.” I blurted out, cheeks reddening.

He smirked again, amusement on his face “You do?”

“You’re Klum...Captain of the Mermorte.” 

“You do,” he nodded, “It’s unusual that people this far from shore recognise my face.”

“I like pirates….” I blushed, holding my hands up, “I mean...I meant. My dad lived by the sea and used to serve pirates in his own father’s store. I grew up hearing stories about them and their battles. I make sure to keep up with the tales even now and most of the exciting ones I’ve heard have been about yourself.”

Realising I’d been talking for a while, I stopped and waited for him to reply. He was merely smiling at me however, taking slow sips of his drink. The silence was awkward so I filled it.

“In fact I always wanted to join a crew but obviously there aren’t any around here. I tried to walk the week's journey once but my mum dragged me back to the house, I was only 7 after all.”

He remained silent for what felt like minutes, then pulled his hat on. 

“I’m in need of a new deckhand,” he was standing up and leaving the table, “If you can make your way to Daynaux within the next 3 weeks, I’m sure I can find a spot for you on board.”

Without another word he walked away, my eyes following him until he disappeared from sight out of the doors. 


End file.
